


A Four Pronged Eating Implement Left in Center of Planned Flight Path

by Majestrix



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, relationships past and present, working through grief and depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/pseuds/Majestrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief and an unexpected visitor complicate Spock and Nyota's already complex relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fiction is complete, and I will be updating weekly! I've been sitting on this bad boy for a couple of months, unsure of if I should post it. Thank you so much to everyone who has listened to me whine and whinge about this, especially Letterstonorah (my moonbeam!) for pushing me to go ahead and post. I love all my ladies dearly, and this is for them.

_He turns at the sound of his name, shielding his eyes from falling rocks and other debris. Everything is crumbling around him as he is barely able to stand upright._

_“Spock!” Amanda reaches for him, clawing at the air between them. “My son, please help me,” she screams._

_“Mother!” Spock forces his legs to move, muscles burning as he stays in place. It isn’t enough, Spock cannot move an inch. “Please, come to me!” he yells desperately._

_The ground beneath Amanda’s feet begins to implode like the landscape around them. His lungs burn and his legs are aflame with effort as Spock struggles to get close to his mother._

_For a brief moment Spock can clearly see the disgust and anger on Amanda’s face before the lights of the transporter signal his disassembly._

_The wind whips his hair about and Spock is not on the transporter pad but rather balancing on the outer hull of a small commercial freighter, staring as Khan advances on Nyota._

_Spock feels he’s expending enough energy to warp the reality around him but he does not move. “Nyota,” he screams, but the wind snatches his words from his lips as Khan grabs Nyota’s hand and crushes it around the ineffectual phaser._

_He watches, transfixed, as she falls to her knees, screaming and trying to pry herself loose from the augment’s grip, but Khan’s hold is too strong. With obvious glee he drags her to her feet by her hair, his fist wrapped in her ponytail. “Spock,” he says, as if they were merely having pleasant conversation._

_“I wonder, Spock. How long can she withstand being pulled apart? You’re a scientist, aren’t you curious?” Khan places his arm around the base of Nyota’s neck and begins to pull on her hair. Nyota screams as she attempts to stretch and alleviate the pain. “I think I might rip her hair out before I pull her apart. That’s what makes science so exciting, we hypothesize and we –”_

_Roaring, Spock_ falls to his knees onto the floor, banging them painfully.

There is no wind. There is no Khan. 

There is only the harsh sound of Spock’s uneven breathing and the fading pain of his knees. Eventually the hum of the ship returns, then the hiss of moving air as his heart rate slows and the last of the dream loosens its hold on his mind. 

Spock is safe.

Spock is on the Enterprise. 

Vulcan remains lost.

Amanda Grayson, his mother, is still dead. 

Nyota… 

Spock glances at the empty bed and frowns. 

Nyota is not here.

Spock moves quietly on the pads of his feet into the designated living area and catches a glimpse of a long brown leg as it hangs over the arm of the couch.

 _Nyota_.

He comes around to find her surrounded by work, various reports and paperwork on padds before her slumping form. Spock does not recall when she left the bed, before or during the illogically emotional dream sequence Spock was forced to endure?

Regardless, Nyota has less than three hours before reporting to the bridge; her current position will not give her body the rest required to work at optimum efficiency for the entirety of her shift. “Nyota.” The vocalization of her name is harsher than he had anticipated or wanted. He watches her flinch and jerk awake. “Nyota, why are you asleep on the couch?”

Nyota looks around in confusion before she relaxes and drops her face into her hands. “I had work I had to do and I didn’t want to wake you by turning on the light.” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to gather her materials from their sprawl on the coffee table. 

She is lying.

Spock stiffens at the realization and feels his anger rise. “What is it you lie about, Nyota?” he asks. “I am unsure of the nature of your falsehood but I am confident you are not being completely truthful.”

“I don’t want to fight, Spock,” Nyota says. After waking to an unexpected knee in the side work seemed to be better than attempting sleep again. She’s got a bruise forming just above her hip. What’s the point of telling Spock about it when he’s just going to blame himself?

“But you wish to deceive me?” Spock asks. 

Nyota glare sharpens. “No, Spock, I don’t.”

“Yet, here we are.”

“I’m tired of being brushed aside and told I’m being overly emotional. That I have failed to comprehend all variables involved. What do you want me to do?” Nyota asks. “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“I do not know what you want from me,” Spock says and Nyota can’t help but throw up her hands.

“I don’t want anything _from_ you, Spock. I want you to be healthy.”

Spock struggles with the things he does not know how to say and the pride that will keep the words from him. He sees Nyota before him, eyes filled with concern and love and the only sensations that reach him are … despair and loss of control. 

He wants to take the real and metaphorical hand Nyota holds out to him, but he cannot because he is apprehensive as to where it leads. She spends most of her time consumed with worry for him, asking if he has partaken of food and rested when it becomes necessary. As a mother does. Did.

Spock does not wish Nyota to replace his mother, who is irreplaceable in all manner of definition of a word. 

Not she who is to be his mate. 

Nyota shifts her weight from one foot to the other and runs her fingers through her unbound hair. As her shirt rides up Spock catches a glimpse of purpling skin. 

A bruise. Spock is suddenly feeling ill. “How did you become injured?” Spock asks. 

Nyota freezes and drops her hands to her side. “It’s nothing. The dermal regenerator will clear it right up.”

“I am aware of the dermal regenerator and its purpose, Nyota. You will answer the question,” Spock grinds out. 

“We are not Commander and Lieutenant right now, Spock.”

Spock’s fists flex at his side and he does not know why his concern has collapsed under the weight of his anger. “Apologies,” he says, lowly. 

Nyota shakes her head but says nothing, her expression tight.

“Is this excessive emotional reaction an attempt at retaliation for cancelling our plans earlier this evening?” Spock asks. Surprisingly this seems to further incense her. 

“What? Spock, no. You don’t get to call my emotional response excessive when you’ve gone from hot to cold in under two minutes,” she says. “I don’t want to fight because it’s still in the middle of the night and I am tired. I’m tired of bringing up the same things over and over again. I just don’t have it in me right now. I think we’ll both be in better moods if we go back to sleep.”

‘I have no need to rest further,” Spock says. 

“But you look tired, _kipenzi”_

“In spite of your opinion, I am fully aware of what my body needs,” Spock retorts. 

“Right,” Nyota mutters. “I’m sorry that I offered an observation and a plausible solution.” Spock says nothing as he watches Nyota stalk around him to the bedroom and pause at the door. “There was a time when you didn’t need a reason to lie beside me,” she says, and allows the door to shut behind her.

 

***

Nyota watches the reflection as she turns her head this way and that. She has bags beneath her eyes, but that’s nothing new. Her exhaustion goes beyond lack of sleep and it’s starting to show. Nyota tries on a smile that seems false but after touching the concealer wand to the skin beneath her eyes she looks… Fairly normal. Nyota picks up her lip gloss and tries not to sigh. The person staring back at her looks like an unhappy stranger. 

How long? Weeks of this? Months, if she’s going to be honest and if you’re not going to be honest with a flat reflection of yourself, who can you be honest with?

“I will be detained beyond my shift today.”

Rousing from her musing, Nyota looks through the mirror at Spock’s reflection and tilts her head. “Oh. Alright. How long?” she asks, making sure she keeps her voice free of emotion. 

“Unclear. It will be wise for you to dine without me.” Spock’s expression is as impassive as usual.

Nyota applies her lip gloss and slides her lips together, spreading the faint color evenly on her mouth while she tries to figure out how to articulate what she’s feeling. “Could you… Is it something that can be rescheduled? Or maybe you can take a break for sustenance?” she asks. Inwardly Nyota cringes; she sounds like she’s begging for time together but she can’t snatch her words back as much as her pride wants. 

“Negative. Two experiments are scheduled to conclude and I wish to be present for the initial findings. It is unclear how long it will take.” Spock comes closer and adjusts his comb on the counter next to the sink so it is parallel to his brush.

Nyota senses the heat of him nearby, but cannot feel any warmth. “I had hoped to spend time with you tonight,” she says as she looks at his fingers on the comb. 

Spock hesitates and moves in close to press a quick kiss against Nyota’s cheek, just below her ear and departs without another look back. 

Nyota’s heart leaps in her chest and she tightens her grip on her lip gloss. “Spock, wait. Do you plan to eat breakfast before you report?” 

He pauses just beyond the view of the mirror, and Nyota has to turn to see his back. “I am fully capable of ensuring I ingest the nutrition necessary, Nyota. I will see you on the bridge.” 

Nyota remains in the bathroom doorway and shakes her head. She hadn’t heard a _yes_ , nevermind that wasn’t what she was trying to ask. Nyota had wanted… She glances back at the mirror. “See you on the bridge,” she says to her reflection.

The reflection doesn’t appear to care one way or the other.

***

Days pass before Spock and Nyota are able to spend some time together, their busy schedules synching only to allow them a shared lunch. They take it in the officer’s mess and both seem to have vowed to enjoy themselves by carefully avoiding any and all topics that can result in an argument. 

That leaves only good memories and light teasing, such as the last time Nyota beat Spock in chess and their wager. 

“Well I did win,” Nyota says as she spears her salad primly. “I trust you will keep your word.”

“I always keep my word,” Spock replies, and nudges her elbow with his own.

“Unless you can logic yourself out of it,” Nyota finds herself saying. She almost winces at the stupid mistake, but instead shoves a spoonful of palak paneer into her mouth.

“Apologies, was that directed at me?” he glares, but the small smile tugging at his lips ruins the effect.

Her heart beats wildly as relief pounds through her system. “Perhaps,” Nyota drawls and glances at the chronometer. The good feeling starts to fade as she remembers the long list of things she has to do if she wants to go to Movie Night. “I’m going to have to cut our lunch short,” she says with a sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“I do not wish to keep you from ship business,” Spock says. Immediately Nyota notices him folding in on himself and pulling away.

“It’s just compression algorithms. I’m not even at a viable stage yet.” Nyota doesn’t know why she’s determined to belittle her own work, but the words tumble from her lips in a desperate bid to fill the silence and to stop Spock from retreating. 

“Better compression algorithms are-”

“Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, good afternoon,” Carol says as she stops at Spock and Nyota’s table. She looks at both of their strained expressions. “Did I interrupt?”

“Lieutenant Marcus, good afternoon,” Spock says as he straightens his already impeccable posture. “What can we do for you?”

“Actually, I need to speak to the Lieutenant, if you don’t mind,” Carol says apologetically. 

“Please, sit.” Nyota gestures to the chair across from her. 

“Oh, it won’t take that long,” Carol reassures her. “I was just double checking to make sure that you can still bring a dish to movie night.”

“Yes,” Nyota says.

“Great, I’ve had two people cancel on me and they were bringing refreshments, too.” Carol blows a hard puff of air past her nose to knock a lock of wayward hair from her face. 

“I’m sorry to hear that but we’re still a go,” Nyota says.

“Load off my mind.” Carol looks relieved. “More people are coming than I had anticipated and we’re moving it to the theater on G Deck.”

“I’m glad you’re going to have such a turnout. The crew needs more organized social events. I know we can’t wait,” Nyota says. “What do you need us to bring?”

“We’re still going to keep it light. Finger foods, nothing too heavy. No popcorn. I’ve got more than enough popcorn,” Carol assures her. 

“Spock, what do you suggest?” Nyota asks. 

“What you select will be satisfactory. I will not be in attendance.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. I had looked forward to seeing you both there,” Carol says, glancing at Nyota and watching her smile dim just a bit. She wouldn’t have caught it but she’d seen it so often on her mother’s face when her father would call to cancel. 

“I’ll figure something out,” Nyota says as she arranges her dishes on her tray neatly. “Enough for thirty?”

“Fifty, if it’s not too much trouble,” Carol says.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be there,” Nyota nods and waves as Carol departs, joining another table full of science blues. 

“You are upset,” Spock says.

Nyota’s smile tightens until all mirth is pressed away. “I am,” she says, lowly. “You didn’t tell me there had been a change in plans,” she says.

No, Spock hadn’t. “I regret doing so now. I had wished to avoid unpleasantness during our meal.”

Logical, forever logical, Nyota thinks. “What is it this time?”

Spock tilts his head. “Gamma shift disciplinary meetings.”

Nyota nods. “Of course.”

“It is important that I or the captain attend,” he says.

“Yes, I know,” Nyota says. “Well, I still have work to do.” She hesitates for just a second. “I think I’m just going to spend the night in my quarters,” she says. Nyota gathers her tray and moves to her feet. When she has nothing else to do with her hands she pauses and looks as if she’s going to say something, but merely sighs. “I hope your day is productive, Commander.”

Spock nods. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He watches Nyota until she leaves the officer’s mess. Spock knows he has disappointed her yet again, but is unsure how to correct the problem.

“Spock, this seat taken?”

He glances up to see Kirk with a tray and a smile. “The seat is currently empty,” he says as he moves his tray. 

“Not anymore,” Kirk says and drops into the seat across from Spock. “Something wrong?” he asks as he squirts a bit of ketchup on his burger.

“There are many things _wrong_ , Captain. If you specify perhaps I can expound?” Spock raises an eyebrow at the nutritionally ambiguous meal that Kirk has chosen. 

“Never mind, Spock. That reminds me. I can take those disciplinary meetings if you want. I don’t want you to burn out.”

“I am Vulcan. My endurance far exceeds your own,” Spock says coolly. 

Kirk swallows. “And while you make sure I’m aware of that as often as needed I still think you deserve some time off. Why don’t you do something nice with Uhura?” He makes a face at his burger and stuffs a couple of fries into it. “Carol’s having a Movie Night. I was going to go but I don’t mind missing it.”

Spock wants to experience a mutually stimulating event with Nyota. He wants to see her do more than worry about and for him and his emotional wellbeing. It is always there, deep beneath the surface and Spock cannot help but feel it when they touch. Her smile is not as bright as it used to be and she seems distant. 

It is because of him.

“Your consideration is appreciated but unnecessary, Captain. Lieutenant Uhura understands that my duties may require additional and unexpected hours. We are dedicated officers of Starfleet, first and foremost.”

Kirk chews slowly as he regards Spock. “I never doubted your work ethic, Spock,” he says. “If you want to take the meetings that’s fine. I’m not going to fight you for more work. Rand is already plotting my murder. I expect you to avenge me.”

“You should not avoid your yeoman; Rand is quite capable at her job if you allow her to perform. That includes completing your paperwork in a timely fashion. And if Yeoman Rand does succeed in your murder, I assure you that I would bring her to justice.” Spock rises from his chair and takes his tray. “Enjoy your meal, Captain.”

Kirk swallows. “Thanks,” he murmurs to Spock’s retreating form.

***

One constant thing about life on a starship is that it goes on. Shifts rotate and people eat, live and love in the great black of space and it all happens over and over again. When one is caught in a rut it is exceedingly obvious and borders on painful. 

Half of her soul is hurting, and Nyota doesn’t know what to do. She sighs to herself as she lifts the motherboard out of the system so she can get at the physical memory. Wrapping ugly feelings in pretty words does nothing to lessen the dreadful pit in her stomach. 

Nyota’s not a terribly patient person when it comes to feelings and emotions. She tries, she really does. It’s during her time away from him that she wonders if her impatience is doing harm. Can he see her frustration? 

“Lieutenant Uhura?”

Nyota closes her eyes and is thankful for the console that obscures most of her body. “Yes, Lieutenant Hawkins?” 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Does it have to be right now?” Nyota asks as she removes the faulty RAM cube in question. There is a weird odor somewhere. She brings the cube closer and sniffs; there is faint smell of burning. She turns it over but finds no scorch marks. Maybe they’re in the slot and haven’t extended to the cube itself. Is she going to have to swap out the entire console? It can be rebuilt but Nyota doesn’t-

“Please.”

“Alright.” Nyota gropes for her micro drill. Strange warping… she’ll talk to Scotty to see what he can fabricate after she figures out what’s causing the damage. 

“I would appreciate it if you came out from under there so we could have a proper conversation,” Lieutenant Hawkins says lowly. 

Nyota doesn’t want to have a _proper_ conversation with Hawkins, especially not when she’s about to solve her memory dump problem. But she’s head of Communications and it’s only right she speak with her second in command.

No matter how insufferable he’s been since her meteoric rise to his previous position. 

She takes a deep and calming breath before she slides from beneath the console. Hawkins offers his hand and Nyota accepts with a perfunctory smile. “Thank you. What can I do for you?”

“Our department has been crawling all over the ship with Engineering to isolate these memory dumps,” Hawkins says.

Nyota swears Spock is rubbing off on her; realizing how much her fellow Humans state the obvious now makes her cringe inwardly. “Yes,” she prompts. That’s the reason why she’s hip deep under consoles in the Communications Bay on H Deck, examining wiring and memory clusters and running diagnostics in minute increments.

“There have been some complaints,” he says.

Nyota blinks. “Complaints. Would you elaborate?”

Hawkins adjusts his tunic and clears his throat. “We’re getting fewer breaks than Engineering but we’re doing more work. We’ve been consumed with this project for over a week and it’s starting to take its toll on the department.”

Nyota considers his words. Communications _has_ been taxed as of late. She has had to miss two planned dinners already, never mind the last time she actually slept in Spock’s quarters rather than snatching a nap in her own before bridge shift. At the thought of sleep Nyota fights a yawn and fails. 

“I’ll take your words under advisement, Hawkins. For now we continue at our augmented schedules.” 

“Lieutenant, I must object,” Hawkins sputters.

“Duly noted but I shouldn’t have to tell you what would happen if we don’t find the cause of these dumps and a critical system is affected. If the captain were to find we delayed doing our job because it required extra shifts he would be well within his rights to demote everyone. So would you like to go on the record?” Nyota tilts her head as she regards Hawkins. 

The man swallows. “No,” he says firmly. “I will tell everyone who complained to suck it up.”

“Good,” she says. “Dismissed.”

“Ma’am.” Hawkins nods and turns on his heel. 

“Hawkins, if it makes things easier you can tell the whiners that while you protested valiantly I rejected their request and to direct all further complaints to me.”

Hawkins looks mildly relieved. “I would appreciate that,” he says, and Nyota nods.

“Dismissed,” she murmurs. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hawkins says. 

“Computer,” she says when she is alone again. “Locate Commander Spock.”

“ _Commander Spock is located on B Deck in the Executive Officer’s Office_.”

Nyota pulls her communicator from the console she’s working on. “Lieutenant Uhura to Commander Spock.”

“ _Go ahead, Lieutenant._ ”

Nyota smiles softly at the sound of Spock’s voice. “ _Are you alone? ___” she asks in Vulcan.

“ _Yes,_ ” Spock responds in kind. 

“I’m sorry but I’m stuck on H Deck with a couple of hours of work ahead of me at least.” Nyota winces. She knows she’s asked Spock to try and make more time for them as a couple and here she is, cancelling. “I am - I’m sorry. I should be able to grab something late or I can eat before I come over tonight.” Almost a full minute passes without a sound and Nyota begins to wonder if there is some sort of malfunction. 

“ _That is unnecessary. There is work that I am able to complete that will occupy my time for the duration of your rest cycle. Please retire to your own quarters._ ”

Nyota blinks rapidly. Did he… She knows she should feel anger and hurt but honestly … She’s relieved. Perhaps that’s another thing that has changed. “Alright,” she says as she forces some levity into her voice. “I guess we’ve both got plans for work.”

“ _Indeed. Is there anything else, Lieutenant?_ ”

The use of her title, well damn. Any fond feeling suddenly evaporates. “No, not at this time, Commander. Uhura, out.” Nyota closes her communicator and takes great care to place it gently on the console. 

She sighs. Once upon a time Spock would’ve taken the time to say he regretted whatever circumstances that transpired to keep them apart. He would absolutely ask if she would stay the night, even if all he could do was be with her while she slept. 

Those times seem so far in the past. Now, if and when they see each other and they don’t cancel on each other, Nyota finds her time is spent trying to ensure Spock eats and sleeps enough. That he takes enough time to meditate and to remember that even Vulcans need rest. Trying to start conversations where he feels comfortable opening up about his obviously tempestuous feelings. 

Feelings he both downplays and denies entirely. 

She wants to stop feeling like she’s nagging Spock, but he has started ignoring her logical requests that he attend to his personal needs. Nyota refuses to sit idly by while Spock works himself into nothing, let’s his grief spin him into a shadow of the person he is. His desire for privacy is the only reason why she hasn’t gone to McCoy or Kirk. If things continue as they are she may have to enlist their help. 

“Spock what am I going to do with you?” she murmurs to herself. 

“Lieutenant?” Nyota glances up to see an ensign staring at her with a confused expression. 

“ _Apologies, Ensign Keval; merely speaking to myself_ ,” Nyota responds in Andorii. 

Ensign Keval nods, antennae waving. “Then I will leave you to it, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you.” Nyota smiles until she is alone at the currently unused console. Nothing was going to be solved tonight and if she were lucky enough and able to isolate the cause of what appears to be widespread and random memory dumps, perhaps she would have the time to discuss it.

Spock willing.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyota comes face to face with an unexpected bit of her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Maathai Family and Maathai Communications are inspired by the Kenyan environmentalist and political activist Wangari Muta Maathai.

Jim is bored.

He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he’s so bored he doesn’t know if he even has the energy to hide it. Spock, beside him in parade rest with his customary clinically non-interested expression, probably never gets bored. Even if he does Jim wonders if Spock will tell him about it. 

No, probably not. Spock’ll just inform him that boredom is illogical and how he doesn’t indulge in illogical things. Spock standard. Jim huffs and pulls slightly at his collar. “You don’t feel we’re being reduced to a glorified chauffeur service?” he asks as he tries not to look petulant leaning against the transparent glass that sections off the transporter console. 

“Politics are unavoidable as the flagship of the Federation,” Spock says, and it’s as close to agreement Kirk will get from him. Orders are orders and it is illogical to wish to avoid them. 

“This woman has to be loaded _and_ connected for this to happen. Or at least I really hope so.” Kirk scratches his ear. “Where’s Uhura? Didn’t she want to be here?”

“It is fortuitous our guest is not punctual because she wished to change her clothing before greeting her.” Spock experiences a moment of disquiet. Outside of the bridge and senior staff meetings he has not seen Nyota in any significant social capacity in some weeks. He had thought… He had anticipated that a bit of distance would provide him with some clarity and additional focus to harness but all it has done was highlight his growing loneliness. 

Spock is no longer suited for, nor used to, isolation. 

“I’m sorry, I’m right here,” Nyota calls as she slides into the room just slightly out of breath. She inhales deeply and exhales slowly, schooling her features into calm serenity. “Has Doctor Maathai arrived?”

“Brief delay planet-side.” Kirk wiggles his eyebrows as he admires Nyota’s attire. “You look lovely, Lieutenant.”

Nyota looks briefly at Kirk with a hint of a smile and rolls her eyes. “I’m off duty, Captain. I told you to call me Nyota.” She fails to stifle a larger grin at Jim’s exaggerated fist pump.

“You look… rested,” Spock says. It sounds sterile even to him but they are not alone. If it were only the two of them he would remark on the beauty of her dress and the way the blue, brown and white patterned khanga skims her curves closely and falls to her ankles. Glimpses of solid blue material emerge from hidden pleats as Nyota shifts from foot to sandaled foot. 

Nyota glances at him before she turns back to watch the transporter pad. “Thank you,” she murmurs. 

“I do not believe I have seen this dress,” he tries again. Spock experiences a bout of anger at his inability to express verbally what he feels. 

Nyota’s strained smile turns rueful. “I was saving it for a special occasion,” she says. _But I am not a priority_ goes unsaid.

“So this Doctor Maathai is really important to you?” Jim asks to break the moodiness. He wishes Sulu had joined them so he could use his sword to cut through the tension choking the mood and conversation. 

“She’s an aunt not by blood but by choice,” Nyota says. “My father knew her when he was a teenager and her children were our cousins. Captain, she’s amazing and so knowledgeable.”

“Sound like a fan,” Kirk says. “Do their press, too?” he teases.

Nyota tilts her head and scoffs softly. “You have no idea.”

“Well, glad we won,” Kirk says with a nod. 

Nyota’s smile tightens just slightly. 

“Is this the same Doctor Maathai who is CEO of Maathai Communications?” Spock asks.

“Yes,” Nyota says. “A lot of the Federation’s breakthroughs in subspace theory and technology from the last twenty years is from Doctor Maathai and the amazing people on her research teams.”

“They’re the company that supplies the Federation with all their subspace relays, right?” Kirk whistles lowly. “No wonder we’re on this run.”

“To me she’s always been _shangazi_ Ambata.” Nyota bounces slightly on the balls of her feet. “I haven’t seen her in almost seven years. I didn’t think I’d see her until we came back to Earth.”

“Captain, we’re being given the go ahead.” Everyone turns to the teleporter tech and Kirk nods once.

The woman that materializes on the pad is not as old as they’ve been led to expect and Nyota makes a slight noise as she halts her advance toward the dais. 

“That’s your aunt?” Kirk asks as he stares at the statuesque young woman in a yellow linen dress and blazer. Her gleaming black hair is pulled into coiled knots and ornamented with small pearls. Her generous mouth is clad in dark amethyst and it curves in a slightly predatory manner. When her walnut brown eyes alight upon Nyota her smile brightens to reveal white teeth.

“…Arafa?” Nyota is suddenly wrong-footed in the wake of her surprise. 

“Guilty.”

Nyota opens her mouth and closes it abruptly. “But the manifest says _Doctor_?” 

“Turns out they do not let you use the honorific without the credentials,” Doctor Arafa Maathai says. 

“Lieutenant…” Kirk murmurs next to Nyota, spurring her through her surprise. 

“Of course, my apologies, Captain. Please welcome Doctor _Arafa_ Maathai, daughter of Doctor Ambata Maathai, of Maathai Communications.”

Kirk steps forward and offers his arm. “Captain James T Kirk. Welcome to the Enterprise.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Doctor Maathai accepts Kirk’s arm as she moves down the short set of steps to the gleaming deck. 

“I am Commander Spock, first officer,” Spock introduces himself with a short inclination of his head. "Welcome."

“Thank you.” Doctor Maathai turns to Nyota. “Starfire, you will not greet me?” 

Nyota flushes at the use of the nickname. “I wish - It’s been a while since I’ve been called that,” she says. 

“Starfire, eh?” Kirk grins. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Oh, but Captain I can remember a lot more things,” Nyota threatens sweetly.

Kirk makes a face as he scratches at the back of his neck. “Carry on,” he says. “Why don’t you show Doctor Maathai to her quarters since you’ve got to catch up? She’s in ambassadorial suite six.”

“Yes,” Doctor Maathai grins as she curls her arm around Nyota’s and looks up at her. “Show me your ship and tell me all about it.”

Kirk waits until the automatic door slides shut behind the women before he chuckles and groans. “What is it with scientists being so hot?” he asks mournfully. “Did you see her?”

“I was beside you at her arrival, Captain,” Spock says dryly. 

“You know what I mean, Spock. I’m going to have to ask Uhura if she has any other stunning friends who want to come hang around on a five year mission. I wouldn’t mind having guests if they looked like that.”

“Starfleet regulations require –”

“Joke, Spock,” Kirk says with a dismissive gesture. “One can dream, can’t they? Even you have to admit Doctor Maathai was gorgeous.”

“Captain…”

“Go on, Uhura isn’t around,” Kirk goads as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“There is no logic in denying her features are symmetrical and her figure aesthetically pleasing,” Spock says. 

“Gonna tell Uhura,” Kirk sings as he darts out of the transporter room.

Spock sighs inwardly wonders how he will endure five years of Captain Kirk. He pauses as he remembers the way Nyota ducked her head and the small smile at Doctor Maathai’s use of the nickname _Starfire_. 

_There’s a story there_ , Spock’s mother would say. 

***

“This is nice, for a Federation starship,” Arafa says as she turns slowly in the living area of the suite. “Could use a decorator though.”

Nyota chuckles. “These rooms are decorated with all neutral colors and no real decorations to avoid any political missteps, so stop talking about my ship. Your luggage should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you.” She takes a few steps around the sitting area and crosses her arms. “How do you do it,” Arafa asks. “The Starfire I know likes her creature comforts.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Nyota murmurs. Hearing that name brings up memories of so long ago it feels like a whole lifetime belonging to someone else. Nothing but youth and the whole wide universe full of possibility. 

“I can see your mind whirling a mile a minute. Besides, why shouldn’t I call my oldest friend by her dearest name?” Arafa asks as she moves closer to Nyota. “I missed you,” she hums. “Say you missed me.”

Nyota takes Arafa’s hand where her fingers brush against her own and clasp them firmly. “What are you doing here? I didn’t misread the manifest. I was expecting _shangazi_ Ambata.” 

“I convinced Mother it would be better for the company if I took the trip,” Arafa says. “Shareholders need to see the new, vibrant face of Maathai Communications.”

Nyota sputters as her hand tightens around Arafa’s. “You’re – You’ve gotten your doctorate _and_ you’re stepping forward in the company? You said that was the last thing you wanted. Hell, you didn’t even know if you wanted to go back to school.” She remembers she’s clutching Arafa’s hand and lets it drop.

Arafa shrugs a shoulder, unconcerned. “Things change, Starfire. Now, how is the food in this floating city?”

Nyota shakes her head and attempts to clear her thoughts of the haze. “Nothing beats fresh but better than you think. Everything on the Enterprise is top of the line.”

“So you say.” She looks at Nyota’s dress. “Is that your uniform?”

“Funny,” Nyota retorts. “I thought I was dressing up for your mother.” Arafa’s eyebrow rises. “I’m off duty,” she adds.

“You didn’t dress up for me?” Arafa presses the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically.

Nyota snorts. “Those days are over, I’m afraid.”

“I’m hurt.”

“No you’re not.”

“I could be,” Arafa says and her smile wilts until it’s almost nonexistent. “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” She pauses and her voice sounds strange.

“I’m off for the next seventeen hours and I don’t really have any plans.” Nyota tracks Arafa as she moves from her side and walks around the room. In sky high heels, Nyota notes fondly. Some things never change. Arafa looks back at her and Nyota feels her heart jump, but not quite in the direction it used to.

Not everything stays the same, she considers.

“A whole seventeen hours? Imagine what we can do with that time.” Arafa wiggles her eyebrows and Nyota barks a laugh.

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around seeing you,” Nyota says. “I’m expecting my aunt and I get my ex.”

Arafa shrugs a shoulder. “An upgrade?” she asks. 

“There’s no real way for me to answer that,” Nyota says. 

“I guess so. Hey, about that food?”

“Are you really hungry or were you just looking for a neutral change of subject?” Nyota fires back. 

Arafa looks at her for a moment. “A bit of both,” she says. 

Nyota hums and she offers her arm before she wonders if it’s been too long or even if she wants to. Once upon a time Nyota could expect Arafa to take it and poke her in the side. They would smile at each other and they’d be off toward whatever grand adventure they were going to get in trouble for. 

Once upon a time. 

But now? Nyota can’t help but smile as Arafa nudges her with her shoulder and twines their arms together. 

“Come on, replicated goodness awaits.” 

***

“Enter.” Spock looks up and suppresses the physical reaction of rolling his eyes when Lieutenant Marcus come in. From various visual cues he discerns she is upset and braces himself for some sort of emotional disturbance. “Lieutenant Marcus,” he says as he inclines his head. “Would you take a seat?”

“Thank you.” Carol accepts the seat and straightens in the chair. “Commander Spock, I’ll get to the point. Over the course of the past six weeks you’ve reduced my supervisory role in the tachyonics and chaos physics labs. Outside of the few experiments I’m leading my presence in the labs is disappearing.”

“I have been present when I adjusted the schedule, Lieutenant Marcus. Is there a question you would like to ask me?” Spock asks. 

Carol clenches her jaw. “Have you found the labs lacking under my supervision?”

“Negative,” Spock says. 

“If you had a concern about my work you would inform me of such, correct, Commander?”

“That would only be logical, since it is my duty as both the Executive Officer and Chief Science Officer of the Enterprise.”

“Do you feel that the rejection of one of my proposals will affect the caliber of my work?” Carol’s accent makes her tone sound stiff. 

Spock considers. “I trust you have been rejected before in your career,” he says. “Lieutenant, I must ask where this line of inquiry leads.”

“When I was permanently assigned to the Enterprise it was as the Science Department’s second in command.”

He resists the urge to sigh. “I am aware,” Spock says. 

“So will you explain why the supervisory schedule for the lab has been changed? Not only changed, but my presence as supervisor has been significantly diminished.” Carol looks Spock in the eye. “I would like to know why.”

“I feel that the level of your involvement required by the four critical experiments you currently lead as principle scientist precludes your use in a supervisory role.”

Carol tilts her head as she parses Spock’s words. “You don’t have faith in my ability to multi-task?”

“I believe Humans greatly exaggerate their ability to do so,” Spock says. “It is my job to ensure that every experiment is conducted under optimum conditions.”

“With all due respect, sir, but you don’t know my optimum conditions.” 

Spock goes to respond but finds, logically, he cannot. Instead he attempts another tack. “It is the prerogative of the CSO to adjust the supervisory schedule as they see fit.”

“Commander, are you aware of what it looks like when the schedule is adjusted and my name is all but removed?” Carol asks. “It appears that I am being disciplined.”

“But you are not.”

“Well I know that, now,” she adds. “But before I came to speak to you I was unsure.” Carol tilts her head and her blonde bob gleams in the light. “Commander, what I did notice is that you have added yourself to the supervisory schedule mostly during shifts where you would be off duty.”

Spock felts his heart begin to beat faster in his side. “What I do with my time is my business, Lieutenant. I will modify the supervisory schedule.”

Carol blinks. “Commander, may I pose a personal query?”

“Denied,” Spock says. 

Carol almost gapes, but catches herself. “I believe that’s all I wanted to discuss, Commander,” she says. 

“Then dismissed.” Spock nods once and returns to his paperwork. He watches Lieutenant Marcus’ shadow nod once before rising. Once the door shuts with an artificial, pneumatic hiss, he sits back in his seat and takes a deep breath. 

It is unacceptable that Spock cannot control his emotions to the extent that largely unobservant Humans are able to detect his distress. Meditation is becoming ineffectual again and the nightmares are returning. It is difficult, to have made emotional progress only to find oneself returned to a previous position. 

Spock thinks of the sole conversation where Nyota suggested therapy. He remembers recoiling both mentally and physically from her touch; was he no longer capable of regulating his own mental health? They had quarreled though neither had raised their voice. 

That was four months ago.

Spock crosses the room to pour himself some water. He drinks the entire glass quickly and pours another. He’s on the third glass before his body agrees that further hydration will occur on the metabolic level. When was the last time he partook of liquid refreshment? 

He hears Nyota’s voice and her concern and Spock feels a surge of disgust at the _feeling_ that wells in his chest cavity. How is he going to prove his mental state is balanced and healthy if he cannot control his emotions? 

How can Spock fix one of the most important relationships in his life if he is responsible for breaking it? 

He glances at the chronometer display on the wall. Time for the evening meal for most off duty members of the crew. Spock has not had appropriate caloric intake in forty-seven hours. It has been ten hours since has had to suppress his biological processes so he could work uninterrupted. Perhaps he could find Nyota and even her friend and have dinner in Observation Dining Mess on F Deck. 

Spock pauses; he considers that Nyota is having fun with her friend. It is highly likely they are laughing and having fun. Nyota would have a smile on her face. If he were to locate her and join them her smile would… 

Spock swallows against the thought. Nyota’s smile will dim, as it has in over seventy-two percent of their exchanges of late. She will become quiet and attempt to ascertain his emotional wellbeing. After Spock informs her that he wishes to speak upon something else, Nyota will become increasingly unresponsive and it is almost assured her smile will not return for the duration of their interaction. 

Unsatisfactory, Spock thinks. 

He does not wish to cause her undue emotional distress, nor does he want to see the look of concern upon her face. Spock does not require Nyota to take care of him as if he were a child. He will seek sustenance in his quarters, later. After all work is completed.

Spock, with a clear plan in mind, finds his emotional balance is restored and returns to his desk. When he concludes the planned activities for the day he realizes that almost four hours have passed. While it is later than he had wanted it is illogical to regret doing his job as required.

Nyota will have to understand, he thinks as he clears his desk. “Lights, off,” he says, and the room is immediately plunged into mostly darkness. The window in his office is suddenly the focal point as celestial light reveals only the surfaces and edges to the objects in the room. 

In such darkness Spock allows himself to identify the emotion that sits like a stone in his stomach; dread. He thinks upon Nyota, as he often does, with the wide smile of excitement and anticipation at the arrival of their guest. Spock remembers when she looked at him as such. With excitement and joy and anticipation. Before it turned into concern and pinched expressions and sadness. 

Spock is tired and it is only logical to return to his quarters for a sleep rest period but he wishes for Nyota to be waiting in his quarters, even though he would be considerably late for any dinner she would have prepared. But it has happened before and Spock would kiss her and she would kiss back and it would be most gratifying. 

Spock rises from his seat and straightens his tunic. There is no logic in sitting in the dark of one’s office while having an emotional response to the thought of someone simultaneously waiting for him within his quarters and not. Spock resolutely leaves his office and does not stop until he is in his quarters. 

Nyota is not present and his rooms are empty and undisturbed.

The relief is immense but disappointment makes his head pound. 

***

“Your captain is hilarious and even cuter than the press says.” Arafa slips off her heels and loses four inches in height. They had just returned from a fun dinner that lasted most of the night with Jim, Hikaru, and Leonard. Nyota watched as all four of her friends became enamored with Arafa and fall under her spell, especially when she offered to open a bottle of Aldebaran whiskey. Afterward she had everyone at the table practically eating out of her hand. “Everyone you work with is just so handsome and interesting. Your friend… Hikaru? He tells amazing stories.”

“Sadly each one is true,” Nyota says wryly as she collapses onto the couch in the sitting area. 

“Even the one with the tentacle plant and the strawberries?” Arafa asks, clearly skeptical. 

“I was only there at the tail end, but from what I could see everything was covered in a gelatinous ooze.” Nyota shudders. “There are times where I want to go on more away missions and there are times I am perfectly happy on the bridge.”

“I’m sure. You know, if he’s single you should tell him to comm Makena.”

Nyota snorts. “What did Hikaru do to you,” she asks as she begins to laugh, Arafa joining in a moment later. 

“She could add him to the long list of admirers.”

“Oh, you mean those poor people she turns into whining, lovesick individuals? I like him too much for that.” Nyota shakes her head and slouches further on the couch. She’s very comfortable and warm and is tempted to fall asleep right now. She doesn’t remember the last time she was so relaxed.

“So you and Captain Kirk,” Arafa begins as she takes off her jewelry.

Nyota’s eyebrow rises and she is wide awake again. “Me and Captain Kirk, what?” she asks. 

“Dating. Aren’t you?”

“What? No!”

“I mean, it would be… okay if you were,” Arafa says. “I mean…”

“I - I know that,” Nyota sputters. “But we’re not!”

Arafa shrugs a shoulder. “Okay, I’m sorry. He’s just…”

“Friendly,” Nyota finishes, with just a bit of defensive edge in her voice. “We’ve known each other for years now and he used to be an annoying idiot determined to make everyone underestimate him but now he puts energy into proving everyone wrong. Now… he puts that energy toward being a good captain.”

“Complex. I like complex men.”

“Since when?” Nyota asks. 

Arafa chuckles. “But you two aren’t…” 

Nyota stares into the abyss of unsaid words and makes an odd sound. “No, not him.”

“But he’s cute. I mean, for a white boy,” Arafa adds. 

Nyota’s laugh is more of a short and ugly bark. “Yes,” she says. “I can admit he’s aesthetically pleasing, if you like that sort of thing, but he’s not the-”

Arafa interrupts with an incredulous laugh of her own. “Aesthetically pleasing?” she repeats as she comes to stand in front of Nyota. “Someone has their words in your throat.” She turns and looks over her shoulder down at Nyota. “Help me with my zipper?”

Nyota’s mouth goes dry as her eyes travel up the back of the yellow dress. It is cut for optimum flattery of Arafa’s sumptuous curves and when Arafa clears her throat, Nyota realizes she’s been staring. 

“Sure.” Nyota rises and complies, and as her fingers slide against the linen and reveals even softer skin she remembers all the times they had undressed each other, the puddles of clothes strewn around rooms in high end hotels of Nairobi, Mombasa, and Beijing. “I’m done,” Nyota says, a little breathless. 

“…You don’t have to stop,” Arafa murmurs. 

“Arafa,” she warns. 

Arafa turns to look up at Nyota with extreme innocence in her expression. “What’s wrong, Starfire?”

“What are you doing?” Nyota asks, weakly. Her body remembers this. Remembers what used to come next. Kissing until they’re both panting and trembling against each other. The feelings Nyota thought she had let go when she boarded her shuttle to San Francisco bloom in painful color. How many times had she cried herself to sleep, missing Arafa? Needing her support and getting nothing? Comming and getting no response?

She misses easy intimacy and Spock-

It’s like a bucket of cold water falling on her head and dripping down her body. Nyota removes her hands from Arafa’s zipper as she turns around. 

“I’m not doing anything. You said you’re not in a relationship.”

“No, I said I wasn’t in a relationship with Kirk,” Nyota clarifies. 

Arafa’s chuckle is dry. “Someone else, then.” She pulls back and searches Nyota’s face. 

“Yes,” Nyota says, and slides from between the couch and Arafa to move closer to the door. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arafa demands. 

Nyota whirls, hair flying as she turns on Arafa. “Why would I speak to my ex about my current relationship?” she hisses. 

“It’s amazing how all we had can be condensed into one word.”

“We haven’t spoken in _years_. You never returned my calls!” Nyota takes a deep breath. “I can’t do this right now,” she says. “I’m tired and the Aldebaran whiskey is going to catch up with me soon and it’s probably already working on you. Let’s call it a night.”

Arafa reaches for Nyota but aborts the gesture. “I’m sorry, I know I no longer have the right -” she whispers. “I just…” She winces. “Maybe we _should_ talk tomorrow.”

Nyota’s expression is conflicted and pained. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says.

“Tomorrow.” Arafa nods.

Nyota flees before she does something stupid. She’s tired, she needs to think and most of all she wants to see Spock. She doesn’t stop until she’s in his quarters. The living area is empty with lights at fifty percent. Nyota’s heart jumps when Spock comes out of the bedroom and pauses. “You look surprised,” she says. 

“Nyota,” he says. “Lights, seventy-five percent.” Spock turns to her. “It is late. I assumed you would slumber in your own quarters.”

“I’ve missed you and I wanted to see you,” she manages to get out.

Spock’s frown deepens as he comes closer. “It is quite late in your rest cycle. You should be asleep if you are to perform at optimum efficiency for your shift.”

Nyota blinks. Did he not hear her? “I… Jim gave me tomorrow off. I’m to give Arafa a tour of the ship.”

Spock experiences a moment of irritation. “I was not aware.”

Nyota looks at Spock’s attire. “Did I disturb your meditation?” Maybe that accounts for his disgruntlement. 

“No. I meditated hours ago.”

“It would have been nice if you had joined us for dinner. Arafa was able to meet Hikaru, Leonard and Jim tonight. I would’ve… I would’ve liked to have been able to introduce you, too,” Nyota says.

“It sounds as though your evening did not suffer in my absence,” he says, moving toward his desk against the wall. There is word spread haphazardly across the top with none of Spock’s usual order.

Nyota follows him, standing in the middle of the living area awkwardly. As if she doesn’t spend most of her time here, living life in this space. “My evening is always lacking in your absence. Have you eaten dinner?”

“I do not wish to discuss periodic caloric intake,” Spock says. “I am not a child.” Nyota looks taken aback and Spock allows himself a small sigh. “It is not my wish to be harsh, but I told you my thoughts on your excessive questions and how they border on needlessly incessant. I do not wish to talk about my appetite, my rest cycles or the last meal I have consumed. Am I clear?”

Nyota’s heart plummets and she _violently_ shoves the despair back down into the pit. She seals it tight and in its absence a chilling numbness spreads until her head feels cold. “Crystal,” she bites out before she turns on her heel and goes into the bedroom. 

Spock follows her a moment later and finds her yanking open her drawer in his dresser and removing her sleep and lounge wear. “What are you doing?” he asks. 

“I’m getting my favorite pajamas. I always leave them here but I want to sleep in them tonight,” Nyota says as she uses her hip to slam the drawer closed. 

“Your tone and word usage suggests you no longer intend on slumbering here.”

“That would be correct, Spock,” Nyota says as she slips into the bathroom to gather her toiletries.

“Your presence is not disturbing me, as I have already stated,” he says, following her until he’s in the bathroom doorway, still unsure why she wants to leave. Perhaps he was not clear? 

“I ask to talk and you decline. I convey my concern and it is rebuffed. We don’t spend any time together and you have not expressed displeasure at our significantly reduced contact. I don’t know what to do because I know something is wrong but you won’t talk about it. I thought we… I thought we had moved past this,” she says, and her voice trembles just a bit as she zips up her travel case.

So strange, that she can still put everything in Spock’s bathroom into a travel case. Nyota’s head begins to throb and she bows her head, not wanting to think about anything difficult for the rest of the night. 

Spock stares at the back of her bowed head and inwardly anguishes. He had as well. He wishes to hold Nyota and beg her forgiveness. He desires to explain that he’s not sleeping well and his fears and the odd intervals where emotion he cannot interpret overwhelms him and leaves him almost breathless. He wants to let her in and maybe she could help him understand…

He feels weak and hates himself for it.

Is not the Vulcan way.

“I do not mean to be deficient,” he says, his tone almost creaking under the stress of his words. 

Nyota ignores the ache in her brain as she turns back to pin him with an incredulous expression. “I don’t… I don’t find you deficient,” she says. “That’s not what I’m saying and that’s not what I’ve _been_ saying.” Her shoulders sag and she sighs loudly. “I want help you.”

Everything he wants to say burns away under inexplicable anger and he doesn’t know what to do. “I do not require any help from you, Nyota,” he says.

“What do you want, Spock? Please, tell me because I don’t know and I can’t read your mind because you no longer let me in.”

Spock straightens, stiffly, and nods once. “I want you to have a restful sleep cycle,” he murmurs, and feels all the more a failure when Nyota’s shoulders slump. He removes himself from the entryway of the bathroom and goes to sit down at his desk. Although he does not seek visual confirmation Spock tracks the small sounds of Nyota moving about and two minutes later his door chimes softly on her way out.

Away from him.

With a roar, Spock turns to the wall and slams his fist through.

***

Thankfully Nyota’s quarters are not that far from Spock’s, but by the time she gets there and puts her things down in a heap on her couch she doesn’t want to be there anymore.

She wants sugar. With that thought alone she turns on her heel and leaves for the Officer’s Mess. 

There’s very few people in the Officers’ Mess having just missed Gamma shift’s dinner rush. Nyota’s more relieved than anything, she doesn’t want or need the judgmental looks at her dessert. She replicates herself a large bowl of white chocolate and sea salt caramel gelato and snags a table by a window. The first bite is heavenly and it takes a large portion of Nyota’s control not to moan in bliss. 

It’s exactly what she needs, at least something is going right.

“That’s a mighty big bowl for such a little lady.”

Nyota closes her eyes briefly before she looks around in exaggerated confusion. “I didn’t know there were children on board,” she retorts as she returns to her food.

McCoy snorts as he moves closer with an impressively large mug in hand. “Is this seat taken?” He gestures to the empty chair across from Nyota.

“It is currently unoccupied,” Nyota says. 

“God, you sound like the hobgoblin,” McCoy grouses as he swings onto the chair. 

The comment makes Nyota’s stomach cramp and her head pound as she swirls her spoon around, mixing the gelato in her bowl. “What brings you down here, Doctor?”

“Up, actually,” he corrects. “Late night consult, now I need something to put me back to sleep. It’s nothing like my favorite licorice tea, but we’re in the middle of goddamn space, can’t expect civility.” He shrugs. “Why does it look like you’re drowning your sorrows in ice cream?”

“Gelato,” she says. “And if I _were_ trying to drown I would stick my face in it.”

“Still,” McCoy says, “do you want to talk?”

Nyota wants to bristle but doesn’t have the energy. “You’re CMO,” she says as if she’s suddenly remembering.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says hesitantly. “Something wrong?”

“What’s the protocol for someone to be required to undergo therapy?” she asks. 

McCoy takes a long sip of his tea as he contemplates a response. “A crewmember or guest would have to present symptoms of psychiatric distress or the intent to cause harm to themselves or others. Who we talking about?”

Nyota shakes her head as she sticks her spoon in her mouth. “Nevermind,” she says around the gelato. 

“It’s the hobgoblin, isn’t it?” McCoy asks. 

Nyota looks at him. “Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?” he asks.

She looks at him for a second longer then shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says.

McCoy looks at her strangely for a moment before he checks the chronometer on the wall. “Well I need to beat it; biopsy at oh-seven-hundred.”

Nyota blanches. “Don’t let me keep you,” she says.

“About your Spock problem. While I’ll never understand what you see in him-”

“Doctor,” Nyota warns.

Leonard sighs loudly. “I can’t command Spock to participate in therapy, I can only suggest it. No Vulcan can be commanded to participate in any _human_ centric mental health procedure against their will, unless dictated by a Vulcan healer, even if he’s half human.”

Nyota nods once at McCoy’s somber grimace, and is finally left alone with her gelato and lack of options.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyota has to face Arafa eventually, and finds she's not the same woman she remembers. Spock doesn't take constructive criticism well, from his captain or his friend. Arafa doesn't quite understand what Nyota sees in Spock, and it leaves her feeling out of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flu and tonsillitis knocked me on my butt and kept me from doing pretty much anything. I apologize for the delay, and I hope you enjoy.

“Alarm off,” Nyota groans and tries to move away from the sound. 

“ _Acknowledged_.”

She stretches and winces at the stiffness in the muscles of her back; serves her right for falling asleep at her desk again. Nyota grimaces and continues to contort her muscles through their express emphatic displeasure. As soon as she relaxes the dairy-overload headache rolls in and her mouth feels fuzzy. She sits there for a moment in her own misery, blearily glaring at the small spot of drool on her desk.

“Ugh.” Nyota glances at the chronometer and realizes it’s way too early to be awake on a day off. Briefly she wonders if Arafa’s awake, and almost laughs. A tech fair or a shopping trip are usually the only things that pry Arafa Maathai from her bed before noon. 

Nyota, bleary and hurting, rises just long enough to replicate a low dose of painkiller and strip out of her dress. The analgesic takes hold as she slides into bed and hopes for a dreamless sleep.

***

Waking feels like falling, but Nyota’s no longer in any pain. She stretches and settles back into the covers, taking in a deep smell of the sheet. Her brain tells her something’s missing and Nyota’s fingers tighten on the edge of the blanket. 

She doesn’t smell Spock. Of course not, why would she? His quarters are larger and they had more room to spread out. Made so much sense before, but now? Now Nyota’s sheets smell like only her. She rubs her cheek against her pillow as her mind cries out for more sleep even as it begins to race with things that need her attention. Avoiding the day isn’t going to solve any of her problems. 

“Computer, time.”

“ _The time is oh-ten-hundred._ ”

Nyota lies there, staring at the ceiling while she thinks upon the Enterprise’s guest. _Her_ guest, if she’s honest. If Arafa isn’t awake by now she’s going to be, Nyota thinks, and before she can convince herself to go back to sleep she’s up and hopping into a quick shower. 

Afterward, Nyota pauses in the process of selecting a uniform. She hadn’t even thought about it. She’s not on duty, so she doesn’t need her uniform. Nyota thinks back on the last few days off she had been issued and realized each time she just wore her uniform so she could get work done. 

_Because all we do is work_ , Nyota thinks as she forcibly puts it back on the hangar and shoves it to the side. She turns to look at her dresser; inside she knows are wonderful lounge sets comprised of soft linen pants and indulgent cotton shirts. Comfort clothes from home. 

Nyota takes a step toward the dresser but stops and glances back into her closet. If you move past the two uniform dresses, two uniform pantsuits and two formal uniforms, she has clothes she hasn’t really worn since departure. Nyota has more Vulcan robes than she can count, numerous formal garments and party dresses, and even pretty casual clothes that don’t look like pajamas. All of it barely touched. 

Nyota doesn’t remember the last time she didn’t wake having shift or anticipating some sort of work. The uniform is something you don’t have to think about. It gets under your skin and sometimes you can feel it even when you shower. You pull it back on and it’s one less thing to think about, one less thing to worry about.

There is no reason why she’ll be called in today, Nyota knows this. Jim’s really good about days off when they’re not in possibly hostile space and he respects the talents and drive of beta, gamma and delta shifts. No, it’s the perfectionist in her. The thing inside that makes Nyota a force rather than merely driven. But not today. Today she’s going to wear what she wants. She’s going to wear what makes her feel beautiful, even down to illogical footwear. 

Nyota chooses a fitted mustard and gold kitenge dress that falls just above her knees and a pair of matching gold pumps. She actually applies something besides slightly red lip gloss to her lips and finishes with traditional beaded earrings and choker. She looks in the mirror and _recognizes_ the person she sees. Nyota turns this way and that and admires her physique in the dress. She looks _good_.

When was the last time she dressed nicely on her day off? The Enterprise is full of preening peacocks off shift; beautiful men and women and variations thereof with bodies hardened by work and exercise. Once upon a time Nyota was one of those who broke out their beautiful clothes when she wasn’t in her reds.

The last time Nyota wore this set of jewelry had to be more than six months ago, when she and Spock were still trying to talk to each other and spend time together. Nyota had fallen asleep in his quarters waiting to go to dinner with him in the officer’s mess. Instead she woke to his warm hand on her thigh and a soft look in his eye before Spock took great care in undressing her. 

Nyota turns away from the thoughts and the mirror, and doesn’t look back; there’s nothing left in her quarters to keep her here, and she can’t avoid Arafa forever. Outside the hall is silent, as it should be; there are only eight senior officer quarters on D Deck and every occupant is currently on Alpha shift. 

Or standing in the hall, she muses.

The echo of her heels in the silence gives her courage but her heart still picks up as she passes Spock’s room. She knows he’s not there but part of her wishes he were so that she could make up some excuse to see him. To make sure he had some sort of substantive rest last night. To make sure he ate. Nyota lingers just beyond his door and forces herself forward. 

After the night she’s had Nyota doesn’t know if she can take anymore.

E Deck arrives and so do the butterflies in Nyota’s stomach. There is more traffic on this deck and she smiles and nods as people of various species move to and fro, completing errands before or after shifts. Nyota can’t help but smile; the Enterprise is large enough to feel like a city abuzz with ecstatic energy when you’re not in the quiet bubble of the bridge. As she passes the open double doors to the Main computer memory banks she can hear Lieutenant Butler barking out orders. 

Nyota’s smile widens and her spirit lifts with each double take and compliment she receives on her appearance. She hasn’t felt this way in _ages_ and wonders when she became so wrapped up in her work and Spock that she began to forget taking care of herself? 

By the time she arrives at Arafa’s door there’s a spring in her step. Nyota takes a deep breath and triggers the sensor. 

“Come!” 

Nyota enters the suite and almost does a double take of her own. Arafa’s not only awake but fully dressed and working. She’s taken out her Bantu knots in the hours since she and Nyota had parted, and her gorgeous kinks spiral in large coils around her face and hang free to just past her shoulders. Arafa’s voluminous hair makes her appear vibrant and taller than her actual five foot three frame. Nyota’s heart pangs and she wonders why she was so excited to have this conversation in the first place.

On the table are a few padds and a mobile subspace relay. Its design is unfamiliar to Nyota and wonders if its prototype. Nyota’s fingers begin to itch as she imagines taking it apart and wonders if she can slip back to her quarters to retrieve her toolkit. She attempts to restrain her excitement as Arafa motions for her to go sit on the couch across the room, which Nyota does and tries not to eavesdrop.

“ _If we could have more time, Doctor Maathai. I’m sure we will find a solution that satisfies everyone._ ” 

Nyota sits and analyzes the voice on the audio call: male and Terran. He speaks Swahili with a French accent; she mentally shuffles his intonation through hundreds of thousands of dialects until it all clicks. 

_Vallée du Rhône._

“One second,” Arafa mouths at her. “ _Two hours or I’m pulling funding. Are we clear_?”

“ _Yes, Doctor Maathai_.” 

“ _Maathai, out._ ” Arafa ends the audio subspace call and turns a bright smile on Nyota. “Starfire, I’m so glad you’re the first face I see this morning.”

Nyota rises and Arafa goes in for a hug. Nyota hesitates only briefly but long enough to make both ladies chuckle in awkwardness. Even in platform heels, Arafa is just at Nyota’s nose. 

“Ugh, no fair. You’re not supposed to wear heels, too,” Arafa jokes as she steps back just a little. “Did you dress up for me?”

Nyota cocks her head and raises an eyebrow. “Hardly,” she says. “You’re just the excuse I need to break out a dress, that’s all.”

“You need an excuse?” 

Nyota sighs. “Even the quiet times can be busy on the Enterprise and you can find yourself working even when you’re not on shift. Being the Federation’s flagship means we’re on the cutting edge of most deep space experiments.”

“Like what?”

“Most of it is classified,” Nyota says with an apologetic grimace. 

Arafa looks like she wants to say something else but turns to go back to the table. “Sorry you caught me in the middle of a call; just some business that needs to be done before we get to Rigel VII.”

“How long have you been awake?” Nyota asks.

“Since around oh-seven hundred.” Arafa shrugs a shoulder as she moves back to the table. “I should’ve brought Neema with me but oh well,” she murmurs. 

“Who’s Neema?”

“My assistant.” Arafa turns to her with a strange expression. “You look really nice.”

Nyota smiles and glances away. “Well, look at you; your own assistant and everything. Okay, who are you and where is sleep-till-noon Arafa?” Nyota jokes.

“She had to grow up,” she says. “But you’re still not going to get me to go running,” Arafa warns.

Nyota laughs. “How many times did I have to duck shoes and other things before I learned my lesson?” 

“Too many to count. One second. I think that’s my…” Arafa moves back to the table and pulls a stylus out of her hair to work; as she bends the fitted brown and black patterned dress molds most appreciatively against her behind.

Memories flit across Nyota’s mind that make her touch her neck and wonder if the environmental controls are malfunctioning. But Arafa has always been lovely and alluring in the most frustrating of ways. 

But waking early to do work? Not Arafa. Or at least, not the Arafa she knew. There is a presence and a focus about her. It is…

Unexpected.

_Yes, unexpected_ , Nyota thought. “I can come back,” she says as she watches Arafa raise one foot to rub the back of her ankle. The familiar calla lily tattoo is briefly visible.

“No, no; I’m almost done. I appreciate Armand’s work, I do, but I’m a little paranoid about this acquisition and –” Arafa looks over her shoulder at Nyota and smiles. “I’m boring you.”

“No, no you’re not. I’m happy you’re passionate about something,” Nyota says earnestly. 

Arafa’s wince is exaggerated. “I can hear between the lines,” she says before she turns back to the table. 

“Don’t start.” Nyota comes to stand beside her and runs her hands lightly over the subspace relay. “You do know that the Enterprise has the state of the art communications, which you should know since your family got the contract. Why didn’t you just request use?”

Arafa’s smile turns rueful. “I said I’m paranoid,” she says. “I’m in the middle of negotiating for the rights of this new alloy that should-” Arafa looks up and shakes her head. “Sorry; legally I can’t divulge anything while we’re in negotiations. You understand, right?”

Nyota hides the fact that she’s sort of taken aback. “Right, of course,” she says quickly. “Hey, I deal with classified information all the time, I understand.”

“Good.”

“Can I take it apart?” Nyota wiggles her eyebrows.

Arafa screeches. “Wouldn’t you be happy with the schematics? No, what am I saying, of course you need to take it apart.”

“I wouldn’t turn down schematics, too,” Nyota reassures her. 

“Of course not,’ Arafa scoffs. 

Nyota trails her fingers along the seams of the metal and sighs. “Arafa-”

“No,” she whines. “Not yet. I don’t think I’m ready.”

Nyota huffs a laugh and is glad she’s not the only one. “So are we not going to talk?”

“We are talking,” Arafa says, her tone light. She glances up at Nyota and gives a half-hearted shrug. “I’m working up the courage,” she admits with a laugh. “We have… _I_ have a lot to apologize for.”

Nyota nods once and moves her hair off of her shoulder. “We could get some breakfast while you try to find that courage,” she says. “A tour of the Communications Labs and my office after. You can meet the people I work with and see some of non-classified projects.”

Arafa is looking at the table but Nyota can see a small smile on her face. “I _am_ starving,” Arafa admits.

“We can eat here or we can go where there are people.”

“Maybe I want to keep you to myself,” Arafa says.

Nyota shrugs a shoulder. “That would require we talk.”

“Your ship, you choose.”

“I’ve got an idea. A little bit of both and a view you wouldn’t believe.”

Arafa’s smile is warm. “Lead the way.” 

***

“Enter.” Spock spares a glance at the humanoid at his door and rises to attention. “Captain.”

“Please, as you were. This is your office,” Kirk breezes around the apple in his mouth. Spock tries not to frown at the juice collecting in the corners of Kirk’s mouth. He schools his features into a respectful blankness and nods once more before resuming his seat. 

“Is there something I can do for you, Captain?” Spock asks. Probability has proven the sooner he returns Kirk to his previous activity the faster he can return to his work.

“I came to check on you.”

Spock blinks. “The computer is programmed to apprise you of my location,” he says.

“I wanted to see how you were doing in person,” Kirk says slowly. 

“Is there something I have failed to complete during my shift?” Spock knows there isn’t, so he primes himself for an abundance of oversharing from James Kirk, in the guise of getting to know Spock better.

“You seem distracted.”

Spock tamps down the flare of irritation and resumes typing at his computer. “I complete my work in a timely fashion,” he says.

Kirk finishes his apple and aims for the organic refuse panel on the far wall. He closes one eye for reasons Spock cannot fathom, and throws it hard. The receptacle’s sensor opens and what is left of the apple sails easily inside. 

Spock is not impressed.

“Never said you didn’t,” Kirk says. “But I can tell when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted.”

Spock’s fingers pause on the keys as he clenches his jaw. “What behavior has led you to this conclusion, Captain?”

Kirk takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of Spock’s desk and shrugs a shoulder. “Usually your focus is effortless. I guess Uhura could explain it better but you’re usually like a computer working in the background on the bridge. This morning you weren’t. You seemed agitated and you walked around a lot.”

“Did I fail to complete a task, Captain?” Spock’s tone is more than a little icy. “Was I insubordinate or obstinate in any way? Did I place myself or this crew in harm’s way through negligence or poor intelligence?” Kirk laughs, actually laughs, and Spock cannot help but bristle. “Captain, I must insist-”

“No, Spock. Something’s wrong and if you don’t want to tell your Captain then maybe you’ll tell your friend?” Jim asks softly. 

Spock opens his mouth and closes it. He understands this is what is considered an extension of a branch from the _Olea europaea_ tree, but he is unsure not only if he should confide, but if he _wants_ to do so. “I find it difficult to speak with those considered peers in a social setting,” he admits.

“No shit,” Jim says. “What can I do to help you feel more comfortable?” 

_Be Nyota_ , Spock thinks. “There is nothing you can do,” he says. 

“Spock, I want to be your friend.” Jim leans forward and puts both hands flat on Spock’s desk. 

Spock stares at them for a moment. “Nyota has often discussed with me the purpose of friendship. I have expressed on many occasions that I felt I had no need for friendship and that I considered her counsel in social matters reliable and superior to other humanoids I had experience with. She disagreed.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have any friends?” Jim asks. 

Spock tilts his head as he regards Jim. “Your tone suggests pity,” he says. 

Jim winces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I don’t pity you,” he states quickly. 

“Understood, Captain.”

“Please call me Jim,” he pleads. “I know we’re on duty but we’re alone and in your office and there is no one on this whole deck besides the two of us.”

Spock swallows and nods. “That is reasonable. Jim,” he adds. 

Jim’s smile is radiant as he claps his hands together and rubs them. “Alright, so what’s the problem?”

“I am not… exactly sure,” Spock says. “Nyota and I are- ” he swallows. “We are experiencing discord in our personal relationship.”

Jim blinks and leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. “Well damn; I would never have guessed,” he says.

“Lieutenant Uhura and I are capable of maintaining a professional rapport regardless of our personal association,” Spock says. 

“Fair enough. I had to reassign petty officer Gaavr because he couldn’t keep it together. I should’ve known I didn’t have to worry about the two of you. So what’s going on?”

Spock wants to feign ignorance and request that Jim narrow down the parameters of his question, but that would be a stalling tactic and stalling is illogical. Either speak upon the subject or do not. Perhaps… “It seems I have not allocated sufficient time for Nyota and myself to maintain our intimate relationship.”

Jim’s eyes widen. “Yikes; how long has it been?”

Spock is perplexed. “How long has _what_ been?” he asks.

“The sex,” Jim prompts.

Spock inhales slowly. “I am not only referring to coitus,” he says, his tone as flat as his expression. 

Jim appears to stifle his laughter and raise his hands. “Gotcha, sorry. So you’re not spending any time together. Well, how long has it been since you did anything as a couple?”

“Four months, two days, and sixteen hours,” Spock admits.

“…Four months?” Jim blinks repeatedly and leans forward. “Four months?”

“If your sense of hearing has malfunctioned I will call McCoy to give you a thorough examination,” Spock threatens. 

“Sorry, jeez. Just… four months? What happened?” Jim leans back in his chair. “I mean, I know everyone was busy while I was healing up and we had a bunch to do with the repairs and god the press tour… But that only sucked up a month and a half.”

“I am aware,” Spock says. “Less than optimum circumstances have necessitated that I take a more active role in the lab rotations and Nyota has been on the verge of a breakthrough on the-”

“Yeah, compression algorithm.” Jim waves it away. “But that shouldn’t take all night, every night, but it does bring up something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “How do you feel about Carol’s work on the Enterprise so far?”

Spock blinks. “Her credentials are impressive and her work ethic commendable,” he says without hesitation. 

“Okay. Is she fitting in with the science department?”

“I have not received any complaints about Lieutenant Marcus.” Spock tilts his head. “What do you wish to determine through this line of questioning?”

Jim looks slightly uncomfortable. “I spoke with Carol,” he admits. 

Ah. “What is her complaint?” Spock asks. It wouldn’t be the first time a crewmember attempted to appeal directly to the captain. 

Jim shook his head. “She didn’t have one. Actually, she was worried she wasn’t needed on the Enterprise and was, and I quote, extra baggage. I get the impression she doesn’t feel like she fits in.”

“As long as she maintains productivity social cohesion does not matter,” Spock says firmly.

“That isn’t the case for Humans, Spock. Especially when we’re about to be stuck with each other for the next couple of years.” Jim’s expression sours into a frown. “Before we left I asked you if there was a place for Carol on our ship and in your department. You told me there was.”

“Indeed, I recall that conversation.” Spock’s stomach is oddly in knots. 

“So what’s going on? She’s hardly on any of the supervisory duty rosters for any of the labs.”

“I schedule according to the needs of the lab techs and experiments currently in progress,” Spock says.

“I see your name all over it, though,” Jim says. 

“Do you find fault in the way I schedule my labs and my staff?” Spock asks. 

Jim blinks. “That’s straying awfully close to captain territory. I thought we were in friend territory,” he says.

Spock does not know how to proceed and the lack of clearly definable solution is causing a headache just above his left eye. “I would prefer this to be on the record,” he says quietly.

Kirk looks at him for a moment before he straightens and nods. “Alright,” he says, crisply. “I don’t want you getting burned out,” he says.

“Vulcan endurance is –”

“Please.” Kirk raises a hand for silence, and Spock closes his mouth, sullenly. “I understand you have capabilities above and beyond most species aboard this ship. I also know you’re not as indefatigable as you claim. Look, taking a break doesn’t make you look bad. It makes you look like everyone else,” he says.

Spock clenches his jaw around the words in his mouth; they taste bitter with anger and rage but he swallows them and feels them burn down his throat. 

Metaphorically, of course. 

“I will take your words under advisement,” Spock says. “Is there anything else you require?”

Kirk sighs and hauls himself out of the chair, wincing as his bottom begins to regain feeling. “No, not really,” he says as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Oh, right. We have lunch with Doctor Maathai and Nyota. Do you think you can hold it together for a meal in front of a Federation bigwig?”

Spock glances down at his padd. “There is much work that I should complete. Your presence should be sufficient for Doctor Maathai to feel she has been shown preferential treatment.”

“Oh-two-hundred. Please do not be late.” Kirk’s expression says what his words do not.

This is an order.

Spock inclines his head. “Aye, Captain,” he says.

Kirk looks as if he wants to say something else but his shoulders drop as he exhales loudly. “See you on C Deck,” he says, and leaves quite a bit more resigned than when he entered. 

***

Arafa runs her hands along the base of a holo with Nyota and an Orion woman with bright red curls. Nyota looks so happy with her arm slung low around this woman’s hips and Arafa feels a stab of irritation. “Who’s she?” she asks, forcing her tone to even.

“Gaila.” Nyota steps up next to her with a smile that’s more sad than fond. “She was my roommate at the Academy. She was so funny and when I threatened to eat my padd she’d take me out and we’d drink and dance.”

“Is she on the Enterprise? Do I get to meet her?” Arafa watches Nyota’s expression fall. “Oh,” Arafa says, awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Nyota says. 

She doesn’t know if it’s welcome but Arafa grabs Nyota’s hand and squeezes. “I worry about you out here,” she says. “Sometimes it keeps me up at night.”

“Maybe those nights are the ones you should’ve called,” Nyota murmurs and Arafa drops her hand. 

Yes, she knows she should’ve. Every time she heard Nyota’s name or saw her face on the newsfeeds her stomach and heart would clench and she would think, just _call_. The years don’t matter.

It’s obvious they do, as she’s standing right in front of her. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Arafa admits. “You’re angry.”

Nyota shakes her head. “I was,” she said. “I cried myself to sleep the first week I came to the Academy. California was so different than home. No one spoke my language and I couldn’t get Stoney anywhere.”

Arafa turns away to continue her circuit around Nyota’s quarters. “You could’ve come home,” she says.

“Why, because it was hard?” Nyota raises an eyebrow. “You knew me better than that, once.”

Arafa nods. “Once,” she murmurs and realizes what has been bugging her. “You don’t have much in here,” she says. 

Nyota finds her one side of her mouth tugged into a smile. “It’s not all here,” she says. “I’m usually somewhere else.”

“Ooh, do tell,” Arafa teases. 

“Do you think we’re ready for that?” Nyota asks. 

“Probably not, but when did that ever stop us?” Arafa exhales loudly. “I wanted to call,” she says.

“Then you should’ve. I know if there’s something you wanted to do you’d do it.”

Arafa gives an exaggerated shrug as she smiles heavenward. “I forgot how perfect you are,” she says, and it comes out far more bitter than she’d intended.

Nyota winces as she tilts her head just slightly. “I’m not… I’m not perfect,” she murmurs.

“No, you’re not.”

“And neither are you.”

“That’s debatable,” Arafa drawls. “Does she make you happy?”

Nyota blinks at the abrupt change in subject. “ _He_ ,” she corrects, sheepishly. 

“Wait, what?” Arafa crows. “I just… Did I ruin you for women? I’ve heard that can happen,” she jokes. 

“Maybe you did,” Nyota says softly. “But he’s kind of amazing, too.”

“So where is he? I want to meet him! Is he handsome? Is he more handsome than the captain?” 

Nyota cackles. “Much cuter, but I think you could consider me biased,” she jokes. “But don’t sleep on Kirk; people from across the quadrant find him alluring. And-” Nyota pauses. “Well, I guess I’ve officially joined the fanclub.”

“The fanclub?”

Nyota shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s just… We had a complicated relationship in the Academy. He could go from amusing and insightful to irritating so quickly. I’ve never seen anyone fight against themselves so much except for…” Her smile warms into fondness. “Except for one.”

Arafa’s heart beats faster for a moment; she recognizes Nyota’s expression and it’s like a slap to the face. “So are you going to tell me who this guy is?” she asks, pretty proud her voice doesn’t break. 

“You’re going to make a big deal about it,” Nyota says and Arafa’s eyes widen.

“I knew it! It’s the captain, isn’t it?”

“I told you it wasn’t,” Nyota snaps exasperatedly. “Just… no. It’s… Commander Spock.”

Arafa blinks and almost trips over her own feet. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nyota scratches at her neck and looks away. “Commander Spock.”

“You call your boyfriend _commander_?” Arafa asks. 

“No! And I don’t call him my _boyfriend_ ,” she hisses as if she’s embarrassed by the word. 

“What do you call him?”

Nyota pauses. “Spock,” she says.

Arafa stares until she has to look away. She continues around the room, touching things as if she can anchor herself in Nyota’s life here, leave herself all over everything, like she remembers being before. Arafa’s head hurts and her stomach hurts and she wants to climb into Nyota’s arms so she can be told that everything isn’t nearly as bad as it seems. 

Maybe even more than that Arafa wants to turn back the clock so she doesn’t feel as if she has to compete with Starfleet, a handsome Vulcan, and the whole of unknown space.

“You’re not saying anything,” Nyota quips from behind her. 

“Since when are you afraid of silence?” Arafa says.

“I’m not; just afraid of _your_ silence.”

Arafa smiles and finds the courage to turn and face Nyota. “Is it too late?” she asks. 

Nyota looks confused. “For what?”

“Do you still love me?” 

Nyota’s eyes widen. “Arafa…” Her head drops into her hands and she breathes shakily.

“That wasn’t fair,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.” Nyota steps up to Arafa, close enough so Arafa has to look up at her. They haven’t been this close since before Nyota left for San Francisco, and Arafa’s breath quickens as she stares into Nyota’s eyes. “You look like you want me to kiss you,” Nyota says.

“You look like you want to kiss me,” Arafa whispers back. The pull between them flares to life like the heat in their gazes and she wonders if she has the courage to rise up and kiss Nyota. If she – Nyota shakes her head and steps out of Arafa’s personal space.

“Arafa, why?”

Her mouth twitches in a smile. “Because I do want to kiss you,” Arafa says.

“I can’t do this. I told you I’m in a relationship.”

“All’s fair in love and war, Starfire,” she says.

“We’re due to join Captain Kirk and Commander Spock for lunch,” Nyota says, and steps around Arafa to the door. “And don’t call me that,” she says, as an obvious afterthought.

Arafa struggles to get her emotions under control before she turns to follow. “The captain _and_ the first officer? Being your friend has its perks,” she jokes as they leave Nyota’s room. Arafa despairs as the awkwardness settles back between them and although there is minimal difference between the temperature in Nyota’s quarters and the hall just outside, Arafa finds herself shivering.

Leave it to her to say the wrong thing, she laments. But Starfir- _Nyota_ is closer than she’s been in almost a decade and the hole Arafa didn’t realize she had is Nyota shaped and she wants to fill it. There’s only one problem.

This Commander Spock.

Vaguely she remembers meeting him when she first arrived but her thoughts and her eyes and her nose were filled with Nyota and seeing her again and the silver-shivers of remembering love and glances between them with enough heat to power a sun and… and…

Arafa sighs loudly and Nyota turns, her hair swinging around her shoulder to lay against the side of her neck. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

_No_. “Yes.”

Nyota expression turns strange but she says nothing as she ushers Arafa into the turbolift. She feels Arafa’s gaze on her head and turns again. “What?”

“When did you start keeping your hair straightened?”

Nyota’s lips thin as she stares forward. “It’s been years,” she says. 

“Why?”

“Because.” The doors open onto another deck. 

Arafa perks up because it’s lively and people are milling around, relaxed and happy. She can smell food and hear the hum of conversation. “I thought we were going to the Officer’s Mess,” she says as she trails behind Nyota. 

“Nope; this time I’m taking you to the Officer’s Lounge Complex. It’s… Our visitors are usually impressed when they see it.”

Arafa grins and grabs Nyota’s arm. “Are you trying to impress me, Starfire?” The moniker falls from her lips before she can stop it but Nyota doesn’t seem to mind. 

That’s one in her column. 

Arafa has another quip in her queue but she turns to take in her surroundings and gasps softly. 

The Officer’s Lounge Complex is one of Nyota’s favorite places on the ship. It has a window two decks high and runs the length of the area, giving the occupants a breathtaking view of the passing stars, a sea of diamonds in a black ocean. Various clusters of comfortable couches and chairs are scattered across the room with enough room for personal conversations. The eating area is just a short lift ride to the floor above, with café style tables for intimidate dining.

“I keep being surprised by your ship,” Arafa murmurs as she takes in the vastness of space. She grabs Nyota’s hand tightly. “This window is larger than all the windows in the officer’s mess.”

“Yeah. You don’t come here when you’re busy; you come here when you have time to sit and mingle. Or when you want to eat with a view. You don’t want to rush when you have such a beautiful sight.”

“Agreed,” Arafa breathes. The sheer enormity of the view beats gently at her brain and it’s almost frightening. Ever since she stepped foot on the Enterprise she’s had frequent reminders she’s in space.

How does Nyota stand it?

Arafa swallows and finds her anxiety about space has replaced her anxiety about this lunch. Her appetite returns as she remembers she’s only had coffee since breakfast. “Do we have to wait for the boys? I’m starving,” she says to Nyota.

“No need; we have arrived.”

The anxiety is back as Arafa turns to see Captain Kirk and Commander Spock just behind them. She takes a moment to _really_ look at him, now that she knows who he is to her Nyota. Arafa has to admit he has an austere beauty about him that overcomes even his unfortunately blunt haircut. His posture is perfect and he’s loose limbed at the ready.

So he’s a warrior, too.

Arafa watches as his gaze drops down to her and Nyota’s entwined fingers and one eyebrow rises almost to his hairline. She does not puff out her chest when Nyota doesn’t pull away. 

“Thanks for joining us, Captain, Commander,” Nyota says as she nods at each man. 

Captain Kirk gestures with a grin. “Not a problem. If I had to look at more paperwork I would strangle Rand,” he said. 

“Poor Rand,” Nyota teases, and Arafa watches as Nyota’s smile falters just slightly when she looks at Commander Spock. 

The man doesn’t even look as if he’s happy to see her, and Arafa suddenly wants to strike out at him. That is _Starfire_ , doesn’t he know, she wonders. 

“Poor Rand? Poor me!” Kirk protests. He rubs his hands together and inclines his head at Arafa. “Doctor Maathai, please tell me you’re enjoying your trip,” he says as he offers his arm.

Arafa grins and accepts with playful demureness. Kirk goes on to say something about his ship but Arafa’s not quite sure what; she’s too busy paying attention to Spock and Nyota. They step close to each other, but not overly close. He gives her a nod and Nyota reciprocates and Arafa has to turn away before she laughs.

Is this what her Starfire has decided love is? 

The group moves to the eating area and Arafa is surprised by a beautifully prepared spread with some of her favorite foods. She looks at Kirk, surprised, and he smiles back. “Nyota gave the kitchen a menu,” he says.

“You’ve got kitchens?” Arafa is under the impression everything on the Enterprise is replicated. “Where food is cooked?”

“Yes, although most of the ingredients are replicated. We use the kitchens when we have events or if the replicators aren’t programmed for particular dishes. Though with our Engineering team that list gets smaller and smaller. Also for events like this.”

“I’m an event?” Arafa asks.

“Absolutely,” Kirk says, and raises an eyebrow.

She laughs at the multiple layers of innuendo and rolls her eyes playfully. The food smells delicious and she delights to find the offerings are from her and Nyota’s home. A mound of _ugali_ , a bowl of beautiful stew (goat, from the smell), a platter heaping with _chapatis_ , another bowl filled with _maharagwe_ , and a fragrant _pilau_. 

Everyone fills their plates, and while they do so various other crew members come by, led by their noses and stomachs. “We couldn’t possibly eat it all, Captain. If you’re willing I would love for your crew to enjoy some Kenyan dishes,” Arafa says.

Kirk nods his consent to the small crowd. “Can’t disappoint a guest,” he says, his own tray laden down with varying amounts of the foods. 

“Nyota,” Arafa exclaims as she looks at her friend’s plate. “Did you forget your stew?” She glances at Commander Spock’s tray and sees he has all vegetarian offerings as well. She tilts her head and looks back at Nyota, who appears sheepish. 

“I’m vegetarian now,” Nyota says as she pours some of her _maharagwe_ over her _ugali_. Almost in unison Commander Spock does the same thing on his tray. 

Kirk catches her staring and smirks. “They do that a lot, more than they realize,” he stage-whispers. 

Nyota sends a brief and playful grimace in his direction while Commander Spock’s right eyebrow lifts in what appears to be disdain. 

Is that the only expression the man can produce?

Arafa doesn’t know what Nyota sees in him. She may as well find out. “So, Commander, tell me about yourself. What brought you to Starfleet? Did you spend time on Earth before you started the Academy?” Arafa doesn’t really care about the answers, she watches Nyota’s body language. When Commander Spock starts talking it stiffens and she picks with her food. 

Interesting. 

Arafa emerges from her thoughts to hear the tail end of a question from Kirk. “I got the whole tour earlier today. Your Communications lab and your electronics workshop are state of the art.”

“The Enterprise is the Federation’s Flagship. It is only logical that we have the best,” Commander Spock says.

Arafa blinks and maintains her slight smile. “I was asking Starfire if she thought Maathai Communications’ labs were better.” Both Kirk and Commander Spock turn to Nyota, who just barely suppresses ducking her head. 

She swallows and glares briefly at Arafa. “There are a few things that the Electronics Workshop could stand to acquire,” she says.

“Ever the diplomat,” Arafa says sweetly. She feels a glancing kick to her ankle and smothers a laugh. 

“Like what?” Captain Kirk demands. 

Nyota sighs and puts down her fork. “Like the dynamic resonance modules I requested during the refit.”

Kirk sputters. “I don’t… remember rejecting that,” he falters. 

“Or how about the Hera class multiphasic frequency stabilizers? We’re still using Poseidon class.”

Arafa widens her eyes comically. “Good thing I knew what to bring you for a gift,” she says.

“Don’t play with my emotions, Arafa,” Nyota warns.

“Me? Never, Starfire,” Arafa says. She watches as Commander Spock’s eyebrow goes up yet again. _Yes_ , she thinks, viciously. Your supposed girlfriend has a name you know nothing about.

“If I’m very, very good, would you tell me why you call her Starfire?” Kirk asks as he leans in close.

Arafa looks over at Kirk; he really is cute for a white boy, if she were interested in that sort of thing. “Maybe,” she drawls. 

“He’s going to be like a dog with a bone,” Nyota says as she covers her mouth in mid-chew. “Captain Kirk is quite… tenacious,” she says after swallowing.

“I think that is a very positive spin on Captain Kirk’s steadfast determination in regards to others personal life,” Spock says. 

Ouch. Arafa almost winces at the very pointed tip of Commander Spock’s statement. Kirk merely digs back into his food, obviously unconcerned.

“Well, Nyota was Starfire before Starfleet. We all actually thought she would work for the company,” Arafa mentions, and smothers her grin when she grabs Commander Spock’s attention. 

“Oh?” Kirk asks around a mouthful of goat stew. “Yeah, I think she mentioned something about that,” he says after he swallows. 

Nyota half glares at Arafa. “Well, I did have a life before Starfleet,” she says. 

“She’s being modest,” Arafa presses. “At eleven, Nyota at home and in her spare time I add, manages to trump my mother’s entire research and development team and solve not one but _three_ problems with our ninth generation passive frequency conduits. Nyota’s calculations and modifications are now in our subspace relays even to this day.”

“I had no knowledge of this accomplishment,” Commander Spock says. His expression is barely there, if at all. Arafa can’t tell if he’s impressed or bored or constipated. 

Interesting.

“I didn’t want my name on it,” Nyota says softly. “I was young and shy and if I could go back and tell myself to step up and accept the spotlight then my life would probably be radically different.”

“It is not illogical to receive credit for accomplishments of merit.” Commander Spock looks as if he wishes to say something else, but doesn’t. 

“So what happened?” Kirk asks.

Nyota glances at Spock and clears her throat. “Life and death,” she says. 

Kirk’s eyebrows rise but he moves on. “Well, like I said before, we’re grateful to have you.”

“Indeed,” Commander Spock says, and Arafa imagines the word is heaved from his bowel. That single word is so heavy it falls from the ether and Arafa briefly imagines it tumbling to the ground with a _clang_ , sinking through the floor and several decks. 

Arafa doesn’t understand. How is this the person who Nyota has selected? It has to be due to lack of options. Jim Kirk is nice, and funny, and if you like that sort of thing he’s probably a blast in bed. He walks as if he thinks he is, at any rate. 

But this Commander Spock? Dry and passionless. Arafa’s sure he’s intelligent; he is a Vulcan after all. But after intelligence what else is there? During the whole lunch he hasn’t done more than pick at his meager portions. Even when he looks at Nyota it doesn’t seem like he’s really looking at her. 

And Nyota doesn’t even look happy! Arafa attempts to cover her dismay by swallowing some mango juice. It tastes flat to her tongue, no doubt a sign of its replication. The lunch continues; Arafa talks Nyota up as best she can has little need to embellish anything. Her Starfire is beautiful and brilliant and doesn’t need to try and dull her fire for some Vulcan who can’t appreciate her value.

Arafa’s smile turns tight as she watches Spock’s hand land very close to Nyota’s. His pinkie finger almost touches her. Nyota looks down at their hands and places her hand in her lap. 

Alright, Arafa thinks.

The lunch winds down with Commander Spock not contributing much of anything beyond murmuring agreement or pointedly polite silence. Arafa wants to shake Nyota and ask her if she’s lost her mind. If _shangazi_ M’Umbha knows this is the person she’s going out with.

If Nyota even knows? Vulcans are inscrutable in the best of circumstances; since the fall of Vulcan they’ve retracted even tighter within themselves. Not that Arafa can blame then, she admits. But still, this is Starfire she’s thinking about. 

“Dinner?”

Arafa blinks at Nyota. “I’m sorry?”

“Asking about dinner,” Nyota repeats. 

“Oh, I can’t. I mean, I could but I don’t know when. I’ve got a meeting in an hour and I have no idea how long I’ll be.”

“I’ve got paperwork, I guess, but… you weren’t talking to me…” Kirk trails off, sheepishly. 

“Captain, I love you, I do. But in small doses,” Nyota jokes. 

“I will be meditating,” Spock says as he stares down at his plate. 

Nyota’s smile strains to just shy of a caricature. “Of course,” she murmurs. “I guess I can finish up some work since everyone is busy.”

Arafa reaches for Nyota’s hand and Arafa’s happy that Nyota doesn’t pull away. They twine their hands together and Arafa remembers when things were simpler. When Nyota was happier. 

She will be again, Arafa vows. 

If she has anything to say about it. 

Captain Kirk and Commander Spock wish them a productive day, well Commander Spock does, and Arafa can barely contain her glee as Nyota walks her back to her suite but her good mood plummets as a strange silence wedges itself between them. 

“He seems nice,” Arafa lies. 

Nyota shakes her head with a snort. “Please don’t pretend that you like him now,” she says as they arrive at the turbolift doors. They open automatically and close just as quickly behind them. “Deck T.”

Arafa exhales noisily. “I like him,” she says after a moment. It’s painfully obvious how defensive she sounds.

“I can still tell when you’re lying,” Nyota says. The lift slides to a stop and a group of Tellerites in blue and yellow uniforms are waiting to board. One of them notices Nyota and says something in Telleran and Nyota responds in kind with an answering nod of her own as they disembark and allow the group to board. 

“I’m not… Okay, I’m lying,” Arafa says with a wince as she walks beside Nyota. “I just… what do you see in him?” she asks, making sure she keeps her tone discreet. 

“You have no business asking me that,” Nyota says.

“Why not? I care about you,” Arafa says, and grabs Nyota by the arm. “Starfire, please.”

Nyota takes a deep breath and turns. “We’re here,” she says, and Arafa looks past her to see the door of her suite. 

Damn.

“Would you come in for a moment?” Arafa asks desperately. “I don’t want to do this in the hall.”

“You said you had work to do,” Nyota says.

_Shit_ , Arafa thinks. She can’t miss this call. “And I do, but I don’t like… We’ve left enough between us for seven years, right?” she says. Arafa lets her go and triggers the door sensor. “Please?”

Nyota’s glare is halfhearted as she enters the suite, Arafa right behind her. “Should I scrounge up some alcohol for this conversation?”

Arafa laughs to cover her nerves. “I guess it depends on how honest we plan on being,” she jokes. Nyota glances at her sharply. “Okay, bad joke.”

“Maybe we should just stop joking,” Nyota says.

“Maybe we should.” Arafa rubs the back of her neck and steps out of her heels. She laments the loss of height immediately and tries not to go on the offensive. “What do you want me to say? I don’t think he’s right for you.”

“Are you saying that because you’re in love with me?” Nyota asks, and Arafa opens her mouth to answer but loses her nerve. 

“I’m saying it because I care about you,” Arafa counters. “You don’t even seem happy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’d like to think I know what it looks like,” Arafa says. “You were happy with me once, right? I didn’t imagine those years, did I?”

“Of course not.”

“So why did you leave?” Arafa demands, and claps her hand over her mouth and swallows nervously. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she says, confusedly. “Maybe I did.” Arafa pads over to the couch and sits. “Didn’t I make you happy?”

Nyota grimaces and nods. “Yes.” 

“You were going to take a job with the company and I was going to be your trophy wife,” Arafa jokes. 

“I needed something different. I decided I didn’t want a life on Earth,” Nyota says. 

“You decided you didn’t want _me_ ,” Arafa clarifies. 

Nyota plops down next to Arafa on the couch and scowls. “You didn’t take anything seriously except for stealing your mother’s flitter or running up charges at whatever new club or hotel opened up nearby. I wanted to make a difference in the galaxy.”

“I really hate it when people pretend they can’t do that outside of Starfleet.”

“That’s not why I chose Starfleet,” Nyota says.

“Why did you?”

“Oh, now you want to know? When I tried to talk to you about it you never wanted to listen.”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to hear about how you were so excited to leave me. At least I saw you while you were in college; you disappeared off the face of the planet at the Academy.” Arafa digs her fingers into her hair and tries not to pull. “You were going to – ”

“I didn’t want to!” Nyota interrupts. “I wanted to go where no one knew my name so I could go up against the best. Not where I was just _assumed_ I was the best.”

Arafa goes to retort when her communicator goes chimes a notification. “Duty calls,” she murmurs.

“Of course.” Nyota rises and turns back to say something, but what, she isn’t sure. “To be continued?”

Arafa’s smile is tight. “Absolutely.”

Nyota nods once and let’s herself out of the suite. Her brain doesn’t catch up with her emotions until she’s on her deck. Why did she agree to talk to Arafa? Nyota knew she wouldn’t understand; she hadn’t understood when she left why did Nyota think that would change? 

It wasn’t like she just dropped the news on her while she was in college. Hey, love of my life. I know we’re in this super serious relationship and when I think about the future I know I want you in it but I’m going to join Starfleet, have a good life!

She doesn’t quite flee into her quarters, and once the door close behinds her she stops short. 

Nyota doesn’t want to be here either.

There’s nowhere else to go and no one she feels she can talk to about this; keeping one’s personal life personal is really good in theory and extremely difficult in practice but she and Spock have always made it work. It doesn’t leave much of anyone to talk to about private affairs. 

Nyota can’t even call her own sister; Makena only knows about Spock in the abstract, that Nyota is in a serious romantic relationship but not with whom and her parents doesn’t even know she’s seeing someone. As far as Doctor and Doctor Uhura are concerned their youngest daughter is single. 

Everything would be easier that way. 

“Gaila, I hate you for leaving me,” Nyota says into the silence of her empty quarters. Tears sting her eyes but they don’t fall. She’s done enough crying to last a lifetime. No, instead she does the only thing she can do right now.

Work. 

She completes all after shift paperwork and approves four shift exchanges and goes over all transmissions the Enterprise has intercepted since she was relieved on Beta shift. When she finishes and her mind is still buzzing and sleep is impossible, Nyota disassembles and cleans her communicator, her personal civilian comm unit and her prototype version of the universal translator. 

She’s on the floor in the middle of the living area of her quarters, surrounded by components, cleaning cloths, a cup of coffee and still more emotions than she wants to deal with. 

“Damn you, Arafa,” Nyota murmurs as she slots the active variance transducer into its section of the motherboard. She should’ve told Arafa she would have their much needed conversation another time. The whole day has left her feeling strung out, emotionally. First Spock and now Arafa… 

Nyota puts her devices back together and takes them apart again before restoring them to working order and putting them away, the calming exercise finally taking effect. A glance at the chronometer tells her it’s after regular dinner hour, but she doesn’t want to go to the mess, nor does she want dinner.

She wants ice cream. 

Instead she reaches for her coffee instead. 

The door of her quarters chimes once, and that’s all the warning Nyota gets before Spock is stepping through the door. She drops a bit of her coffee on her shirt. “ _Hu'tegh_ ,” she groans, with no real heat. 

Spock pauses, caught by surprise. “I did not know your quarters would grant me entrance,” he says. 

“I never changed it,” Nyota says as she rises from the couch with her bowl. She grabs a towel and rubs at where ice cream is attempting to spread. 

“Do you have plans to change it?” 

_Do you have plans to reject me?_ Nyota hears. “No,” she says. “Did you need something, Spock?”

He hesitates, unsure of what to say, let alone how to say it. “I find it difficult to form the sentences to convey my meaning,” Spock admits. 

Nyota feels miserable just looking at him. “How can I help you communicate?” she asks. 

“I am unsure,” he says. 

Nyota carries her cup to the counter and tries not to slam it down. “Maybe you can start with what you want?”

“I want the discord in our relationship to cease.” 

Nyota mulls over the words Spock uses and those left unspoken. “How do you propose we go about that?”

“Unclear,” he says. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Nyota suddenly feels the need to say. 

“Understood.”

Nyota pinches the bridge of her nose and feels a headache creeping up the back of her neck and head. “I thought you’d be working,” she says for lack of anything else to contribute. 

Spock nods. “I completed all tasks with more expedience than originally calculated.”

“And so you decided it would be good use of your time to have this conversation?” Nyota asks. 

“No. I returned to my quarters and you were not there.”

“You knew I wasn’t there.”

“I did,” Spock admits. “I also considered that we both required some emotional space.”

Nyota’s mouth twists in a wry mockery of a smile. “You mean _I_ needed space to be emotional?”

Spock’s smile is fleeting. “Perhaps that was my original understanding of the situation.”

“And now,” she prompts.

“Now I realize I do not wish to be in my quarters without you. You are missing and I feel it keenly.” Spock cannot bring himself to look at Nyota while he speaks, so he stares into middle distance until she steps into his personal space. 

“Spock,” she says softly. “We can’t keep going the way we’ve been going. We’ve got much we need to discuss. Are you willing to do that?”

Spock considers his answer while he gazes down at her face. How can she be lovelier than the last time he was in her presence? He reaches out and touches her face gently, with the tips of his fingers. “ _This one has regretted your absence_ ,” he replies in Vulcan. 

“ _This one was similarly affected_ ,” she says in kind. “ _May this one hug you?_ ” 

Spock experiences something akin to surprise again. “I never want you to feel that you have to ask,” he says, in his astonishment he switches to Standard.

“But lately I do, Spock. I can’t tell what you’re thinking because you won’t tell me. I don’t always need words; I understand a lot of your emotional articulation is conveyed via telepathy. I know that and accept it. But you don’t…” Nyota breaks off, the weight of her feelings and the words in her mouth weigh her tongue down. She swallows, hard. “Can I hug you?” she asks again.

Spock leans down and pulls Nyota close. Their bodies fit and mold together, as they have done countless times before and something in Spock’s side loosens as he presses his nose into her hair. Spock holds her as tightly as he dares as he struggles to maintain emotional control. “It is not my wish to cause you pain,” he says against the crown of her head. 

Nyota sighs and nods her head against his chest. “I know, but that doesn’t preclude it from happening, does it?” she pulls back so she can look at his face. 

“It would appear not.” They stand in each other’s arms in silence for a moment longer. “Nyota, will you return to my quarters?”

Nyota pulls away just enough so she can look at Spock’s face. She knows how difficult it is for him to articulate how he feels at times, and she doesn’t want him to change, not for any world in the galaxy. But…

She hears herself say yes and her heart swells at the palpable relief Nyota witnesses on Spock’s face. He kisses her chastely, twice, before he moves to help her begin packing. Nyota wants to feel pleased and relieved as well but there is a pit of concern and dread sitting in her stomach. 

She decides to say nothing, and help Spock gather her things. 

***

Kirk punches in the rest of his order and glances around the almost abandoned Officer’s Mess. It’s nice and quiet and you can hear the faint hum of the Enterprise’s engines. He smiles and grabs his order; he still can’t believe it’s his ship. When he glances around at the table he blinks at the sight of the Enterprise’s guest eating alone. 

Well, maybe she wants company. He walks over and puts on his brightest smile. “Doctor Maathai,” he says as he inclines his head respectfully. “Care if I join you?”

“Captain Kirk, please, by all means.” She gestures to the empty chair before her. “And call me Arafa.”

“Only if you call me Jim,” he says.

“Done and done. I would think you’d be fast asleep now.”

“A captain’s work is never done,” he says as he slips into the chair. 

“Indeed.” Arafa says as she eyes the impressively large pepperoni pizza on Jim’s plate. “Fuel?”

“Can’t ignore the stomach,” Jim agrees as he shakes on some replicated red pepper flakes. “What has _you_ up this late?”

“Work,” Arafa admits. “I’m a workaholic these days.”

“These days?”

“Wasn’t always the case. I used to skate through life with my various virtues.” Arafa shrugs a shoulder and Jim is painfully aware of the plunging neckline of her shirt.

Jim is determined not to let his gaze drop to her inviting cleavage. “I’m sure you did,” he says with a grin. “So how is your stay so far? As captain it’s my honor to take care of your every need.”

Arafa laughs. “The Enterprise is nothing like I thought it would be,” she says. “And neither are you.”

“What did you expect?” 

“For the ship or its captain?”

Jim chews. “People say I’m a glutton for punishment; give me both.”

“I thought the Enterprise was going to be a tin can in space,” Arafa admits. “I thought you worked your shift and went back to a room where you bunked with four other people. Communal showers. Subpar food. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Oh yeah,” Jim says around his pizza. “That we’re starving out here and we’re crammed twelve to a room.”

“Instead you’ve got a floating city. No wonder Nyota’s content here.”

“Haven’t told me what you think of her captain,” Jim says.

Arafa takes a deep breath and puts her fork down. “No, I guess I haven’t. Alright, Captain. I’m going to come clean.”

“What does that mean?” Jim asks. 

“I haven’t been _entirely_ honest with you.”

Jim sits forward and puts his pizza down. “Care to explain?”

“Certainly.” Arafa smiles. “I’ll get to the point. I would like to talk to you about Nyota Uhura.”


End file.
